Fourth Dimension Hiatus
by Lady-of-Nolava
Summary: What if Paul had succeeded in making sure Jesse stay alive? Suze was brainwashed and is Paul's girlfriend. During the winter, she goes to Granny Ackerman's house with Sleepy, Dopey, and Doc. There, she meets a ghost called Jesse, who makes her remember...
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note

This story is about what happens if Susannah and Paul had rescued Jesse and Jesse survived from the barn fire, erasing his existence from Susannah's memory.

In _Shadowlands_, this caused Suze to be rescued from the rubble by her brothers Doc and Sleepy, because Suze's father had informed Doc of her whereabouts.

In _Ninth Key_, this caused Suze to be trapped in the flaming office of Red Beaumont with Tad, but in the end, Mrs. Fiske rescued her.

In _Reunion_, this causes the four RLS Angels to attack both Suze and Michael Meducci, the boys attacking Michael while the girls fought Suze.

There is no _Darkest Hour_, _Haunted_, and _Twilight_,as since Paul does not have to fight with anybody over Suze, he also does not need to go back into the future. And Jesse is not buried in her backyard.

And Paul only ever went out with Suze since meeting her at the Pebble Beach Resort.

But Suze's father disapproves of Paul, as he's ruthless, and he'd seen what he'd done to Mrs. Gutierrez when she'd appeared to him for help. First she appeared to Suze, who, not understanding any Spanish, not even _querida_, as there's no Jesse, went to Paul for help. And Paul, after getting the money, sent Mrs. Gutierrez to the hallway, so she can't tell Suze what he'd done. And Suze is still in the dark, believing that Mrs. Gutierrez went because she'd did what she had to and moved on. And Suze's father can't exactly tell her that, like she'll belive, and without Paul suspecting him, or worse, sent him away like Mrs. Gutierrez.


	2. Chapter 2

Fourth Dimension Hiatus

Chapter One

Winter. season of short cool days and long cold nights.

Back in Brooklyn, where I spent my first fifteen of them, summer—when it had snowed—had meant hanging out on the backyard with my best friend Gina and her brothers, having a snowball fight. When it wasn't too cold, we would build snowmen and toast marshmallows around the fireplace.

When we got older, of course, we quit playing with snow. Gina and I also started laying off the marshmallows.

Not that it mattered. None of the neighbourhood guys, the ones we used to play with, wanted anything to do with me.

I don't know what I expected from my sixteenth winter, my first since moving to California to live with my mom and her new husband… and, oh, yeah, his sons. I guess I envisioned the same short, cool nights. Only these, in my mind, would be spent at home, watching a movie with my boyfriend rather than at my stepgrandmother's house.

Serious. My mom and Andy are going to Switzerland for their second honeymoon, as we're "progressing so well as a family". And Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, and I are going to Alabama, where old Gran Ackerman is staying.

"Honey," my mom had said, "Andy and I will be going to Switzerland for a season of relaxation and reminiscence. I feel bad about living you alone without a friend, but Andy assures me that his mother is very eager to meet you. Promise me that you will be good and look after the boys."

"Am I ever anything but?" I rolled my eyes. My mom just smiled and embraced me.

It wasn't until that evening that I realise: there I will be tomorrow, in a foreign land (OK, not foreign, it's still America, but still) with only Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, and an old lady for company. What if anything in the likes of spiritual phenomena came up?

And what about Paul? He's the guy I met during my shift as babysitter in Pebble Beach Resort. He's a hot guy, and very nice to me. Though sometimes, well, he's a bit domineering. Like evil. I don't know. You'd think this was a free choice. But I'd seen it in Paul's eyes, as he was inexplicitly giving me a choice: Suze, are you free tonight? If not, too bad. I'll just have to tell your supervisor about taking my brother out of town.

I don't know why I still stay with that jerk. It's like in Meducci's case: Paul's got one hot bod, plus when you look in his blue eyes, you totally lose it. Like I did.

So I was grateful for this break. However, that would mean not

having anyone to talk to in the whole winter. No one to snowball fight or toast marshmallows with (OK, I might do that with Sleepy or Doc, but still… watching boys eat marshmallow is just too… Eew).

Still, I'd miss CeeCee. And Adam.

"_You_," CeeCee had shrieked over the phone, "_are so lucky_! You know what I had? Parental supervision and staying in the house twenty-four-seven to do work, like gathering firewood and shovelling snow off the drive, that's what! You'll be doing whatever you like! The old lady can't do anything to stop it!"

"Gee," Adam had said, "what a pity. My parents are bringing me to Australia for a summer Christmas, where I'll be hanging around the beach. So long now, Suze."

See? What different peer reaction. Either I'm too lucky for words in CeeCee's words, or my situation really sucked, by Adam's point of view.

Either way, that was better than the confrontation with Paul.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

"Hey, Suze. My parents are taking me and Jack to Tahiti. You wanna come?" Paul was asking me in his car. It was the last day of school, and Paul was driving me home.

"Um, I can't, Paul. I'll be going to Alabama, with my stepbrothers, to visit their grandmother."

Paul looked like the devil incarnate. Suddenly, his blue eyes darkened like whirlpools, and I was sinking in them. Then it was gone, and I'm confused: had I imagined it, or was Paul really evil?

But he's so hot. How can he be evil?

"Goodbye, Suze," Paul said, as he pulled me in for a kiss. That's when I realised: perfect kiss, not-so-perfect character.

Then he released me, and I was able to rush upstairs. I fell into my bed, and I spent long hours wondering about our relationship: why do I still go out with him even though I don't love him? Why?

"Hey, kiddo." I glanced up from my pillow. It was my dad. I just nodded.

"You don't like that young man?" He asked.

"Well… he's OK, like he's caring, driving me home, and—"

"But he kept all those things about himself. You know something, Suze? Paul Slater's a mediator. Like you. And Jack."

My throat had suddenly gone dry. How could he be a mediator? He doesn't even believe in ghosts. Like, when he overheard Jack asking me all about mediators, he had said, "What are you saying, Suze? That _you_ believe in ghosts?" And he had said that with a curled upper lip.

Actually, I hadn't got a very good impression of him. Like, he's actually being sexually harassing. Also keep on bugging me about going out with him. I mean, even though I'm wearing my incredibly unstylish Pebble Beach Hotel and Golf Resort uniform khaki shorts. The ones with the pleats in them.

And OK, even though I am not creepy-looking (in fact, when I am not wearing my uniform shorts, I am frequently complimented on my appearance by the occasional construction worker), I am no Kelly Prescott.

Who is, unfortunately, warm for Paul's form. Every girl is. And apparently, as CeeCee likes to remind me, I am incredibly lucky to be ordinary-looking and _yet_ had a boy like Paul wanting to go out with me. So, she advises, I had to grasp my chance while I still had one.

Anyway, all I'm saying is, I don't believe Paul can be a mediator. I mean, yeah, Jack is a mediator too, but so what if they came from the same gene pool? It's not a hereditarily trait. Plus, Paul's not even

the mediator type. I mean, so aren't Jack and I, but at least we can deal with that. I mean, I'm professional, and Jack is, well, polite to ghosts. Not Paul. He'll look down at them. Or refuse to help them.

"Suze," my dad continued, "what about Mrs. Gutierrez?"

Mrs. _Who_? Oh, you mean the poor woman who'd came to ask me and Father Dominic and Jack for help. But we could offer no help, as we don't speak Spanish.

"Yes, Mrs. Gutierrez. She came to Paul for help. But Paul just… well, took the money and sent her in. He blasted her to the Great Beyond. I was watching, Suze. Something's not right. I can just sense it."

I am familiar with my dad's enigmatic warning, which he'd given several times, about Marcus Beaumont and when my dad first met Paul. I thought it's just, you know, typical father reaction.

Apparently not. But I don't believe my caring (well, he appeared to be) boyfriend can do such a _evil _thing. Like, _if _he had the ability to communicate with the dead—that's a pretty big if—and yet chose to use his gifts for his own selfish purposes. At least, not then.

"Take care, Suze. I'll be spying on him for you." My dad hugged me as he disappeared. "If you need me, just call me, and I'll be there." Then he disappeared.

I rolled my eyes. Really, out of how many times had he done what I'd asked him to do? Only once, when I was calling for help when trapped under falling masonry. And the second time? Well, I couldn't get through. In the end, I had to settle with Mrs. Fiske, blowing the window shutters off.

And that was just typical dad. Giving me cryptic messages and then not sticking around. And making me have nightmares, too, I was sure of it.

Well, that'll be a welcome change from the recent nightmare I was having. The one about a fire. A _barn fire_, to be precise. And it must have been in the nineteenth century, seeing as how it was near my house, and that was when my house still doesn't have light switches.

Still, and my dad expected me to "be good, stay out of trouble" when I don't even know what trouble I was in. Or my boyfriend's dark past.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

"Well, it's time, Suze. Take good care of yourselves, kids." My mom was conducting a sort of ritual (hugging us one by one, me, Doc, and even Sleepy and Dopey).

"Jake, you must drive carefully, OK? It's a two-hour route from the airport to your grandmother's house. You know the way, don't you?" Andy was giving last instructions to Sleepy.

"Yeah, dad, chill out. We've been going there every Christmas." Sleepy was saying.

"Suze," my mom was admonishing, "Old Mrs. Ackerman's very old. Don't do anything to upset the old lady. Her husband had died some years ago, and she's taken to sewing outfits for her grandkids. So don't be rude to her or anything, OK?"

Great. Just great. A dowager step-grandmother who loves sewing outfits for her grandkids, including a step-grandkid. Heck, no matter what my mom says, I will not, and I mean it, wear any puffy-sleeved dress. I mean, seriously. That's _so _outdated.

But it's not like I won't respect her, or anything. I mean, I get on pretty well with old folks (look at Father Dominic or Dr. Slaski, see how well I treat them? I'm not like Paul Slater), and I even respect them.

"Fine, but I'm warning you, if it's a Princess dress, I'm not wearing it."

"Suze!" my mom looked exasperated.

"Passengers going to Alabama, please go to gate twenty-three. Repeat, passengers going to…" The broadcaster announced.

I gently prised my mother's fingers off my back. "Mom, relax."

"But, Suze, I knew we didn't have any relatives before, but try to let her do what she wants with you…" My mom was nagging me now. "…and take care of your brothers, Suze. Jake, Brad, David, don't give Suze a hard time, OK? She'll be like a mother, taking care of you…"

Oh my god. Playing babysitter? I mean, Jake is almost eighteen, an adult!

"Now, honey, it's time to go." Andy was taking mom by the shoulders, gently pulling her away. My mom gave a last farewell and we were off.

"Bye, mom!" Astonishingly, there weren't only one voice saying this. That's right. Sleepy, Dopey, and Doc are calling her _mom_. Am I supposed to call Andy dad? I mean, my dad is not technically gone. Dead, yes. But still around here.

"Bye, dad!" Sleepy, Dopey, and Doc waved. I just _could not _say the word. Dad, I mean. Andy looked surprised, but quickly recovered.

"Don't you worry about your mom, Suze. I'll take care of her." Andy promised me.

"Thanks, and bye… Andy." I know it's lame, but I seriously can't call him dad.

It was a boring flight. Sleepy and Dopey was seated together on the left, and me and Doc was on the right. Sleepy was just, well, sleeping. Dopey was being dope-like was he eyed the pretty air-stewardess. And Doc was being a total biologist.

"Hey, Suze," he was saying, "do you know that Gram like gardening? You should see her garden. The flowers there are so _beautiful_. Plants like _Amelanchier arborea_, which was a type of plant with white flowers, and _Anemone berlandieri_, which closely resembles daisies…"

I can't believe it. Doc was talking to me about _flowers_. _Me_, and flowers. I can't believe I'm having a conversation about _flowers_ with _Doc_. I mean, at first sight, he might not look very interesting, but Doc really was surprising. I mean, I didn't know he knew anything about condoms.

Still, it's useful to know about the poisonous plants. Like poison oak. God, I hope there's no poison oak in Alabama!

"Doc-David, can you move on to the poisonous species already?" I asked.

He just blinked. "OK. For example, the _Ampelopsis Hoggii_—"

"Which is?"

"Poison ivy."

Oh, man. I'd just escaped from California in the hopes of escaping poison oak, and I'd just stumbled into poison ivy. Just great.

"How about nice plants?" I asked.

"Oh. There's losts of elm, maple, oak, and pine trees there. Look, you can see the pine trees from the plane. They are an average of eighty to hundred feet, with the occasional twelve hundred feet tall ones…"

He told me there'd be pine trees. In fact, Sleepy also confirmed with Doc about the pine trees. Dopey had been too dopey to know what are pine trees.

I didn't believe them, but that's what they told me. Doc even told me I'd be able to see them from the plane.

I'm not a biologist, or anything, but really. Pine trees over a hundred feet tall? Come on. Nothing's _that_ tall. I mean, not even palm trees. Not even coconut trees (not that I know how tall are they, but Gina, who said that her grandfather had once visited Asia, said that they're very tall. Over fourty feet.)

So there I was, sitting on the plane in ripped jeans and black

tube, seeing those pine trees through the window as we landed. Great. Tubes and pine trees. Alreay I'm fitting in, just like I knew I would…

…Not.

I bet old Granny Ackerman wouldn't be particularly fond of my ripped jeans and batgirl boots, but I swear I didn't wear it to make her mad, or anything. I mean, I know old people aren't big fans of fall wardrobes. They'd probably be like Father Dominic.

And I'm not resentful of the fact that my mom went skiing with her new husband, abandoning me with three (let's face it: I'm not really fond of them, except maybe Doc) stepbrothers and an old woman who's probably going to hate me from the moment I stepped into her house. I mean, She's probably not accustomed to having a granddaughter (even a step one) wearing ripped jeans and smoky eyeliner.

Oh, no. I'm not a bit resentful.

Still, I'm not very enthusiastic about this when we stepped off the plane.

Oh, and did I mention her house? It's old. really. Built in late nineteenth century, it was a villa. Well, now it's just a house. But, still, old.

I had whispered to Doc about whether there was any spectral phenomenon in Grams' house.

"Oh, yeah. But Gram's think it's our granddad."

Just great. Two grandparents.

It was seven in the evening when we arrived. It was modestly furnished. A cat greeted us as we walked down the driveway. An old sedan was parked in the garage. Sleepy parked his Camaro beside it (yes, he had finally saved enough to buy a Camaro, cherry it out, _and _pay for his apartment _and _tuition fees. Though how he'd manage to do it, I don't know) and rang the bell. A second later, there was this pattering of feet. Then the door was yanked open.

Grams Ackerman was this white-haired, bespectacled old lady. She was nearly seventy. Even so, she's quite a looker for someone that age. If only Father Dominic was here. They could hook up, as I'd heard Grams was a devout Catholic. When she visited Andy, she'd always went to the Basilica.

"Jake! Brad! Doc! And, er—" she was fumbling.

"Susannah," I said.

"And Susannah! Welcome to my house! I hope you'll be happy here! Let me show you your rooms!"

Phew. At least nothing about my ensemble. I mean, it must come as a shock to see a teenager in suburban Alabama wearing ripped jeans and black tubes.

"Jake and Brad, you will share the guest room, it's the biggest.

David, you can take the study. And Susannah, I'm sorry, but, you'll have to take the attic. This is a small house. I mean, when Andy came to visit, he just slept in the same room with David. But since you're a girl, well…"

"It's OK, really. I mean, the attic's fine. Just not too dusty, and no cockroaches, or anything." I figured there was no rats, since Grams kept about a dozen cats, but whatever.

"I'd especially cleaned it for you. Come, you can view the lake from here."

It was OK, I guess. The attic's not really cramped. Just a reading lamp on a table, with drawers; a dressing table/cupboard, and a bed. That's all. And two chairs, an armchair and a wooden chair.

Oh, and how could I forget, a balcony swing. I'm not kidding. There's a balcony from the attic. But I couldn't sit there. Oh no. Because right in front of me, was a ghost. A hot latino ghost, in fact.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

"I guess I'll leave you alone to unpack. Dinner's half-an-hour later." Grams Ackerman said as she closed the door behind me, or _us_. I don't know what to think about the ghost.

OK, the first thing that came to my mind was: _how am I supposed to change in here?_ Next was: _he is so hot, much hotter than Paul._ And finally:_ wait, he's not Granddad Ackerman. No way._

"Susannah!" the ghost shouted excitedly. "Loud, it's you. Finally. I've waited for a century just to see you."

OK. That was weird. Like, does he even know me? And are there no mediators in Alabama, causing this guy to wait for a hundred years before his salvation? "You," I said, "do not belong here."

"Oh. I guess you don't remember me." He said, as he sat down on my bed. I settled for the armchair instead.

"I'm Jesse. A hundred and fifty years ago, two mediators, Susannah, which is you, and Paul, went back to the past. Paul did it to save me from dying that day. You did it because you were in love with me. I was a ghost in your bedroom in Carmel Valley, and we fell in love. Paul wanted you, so if he prevented me from dying, you won't ever meet me, so he and you could get together. So you and Paul rescued me, and I got to live for another fifty years."

Whoa. It's not everyday a hot ghost came up to me and said he loved me. Wait, what was that about Paul? That he's evil, and he's a mediator as well? That's almost like what my dad told me. And, as I was thinking about it, it almost makes sense. Like, Mrs. Gutierrez really did disappeared. But looking at the living conditions of the living Gutierrezes, it did not seem as though they had an extra two thousand bucks to live on. It's just like before.

"But… if what you said about Paul was true, how can mediators time-travel?" I asked.

Jesse looked glazed, as though he was thinking about his past. "Well, you just had to take an object that belonged in the past, and go to a place that belonged in the past, and think about what things were like in the past. Then you just got there. I met you in a barn. Then you told me a secret I never told anyone, so I believed you were from the future. And, you said… that you did this because you loved me. Because there's this saying: If you loved something, set it free. If it was meant to be, it will come back to you. And you honestly believed in it. So I waited for you. I didn't know if I will see you, but I overheard the spirits talking, and knew that a Susannah will be coming here. By the way, this was my house. I died here. I didn't know if it was you, but I still waited. And it _was_ you."

It was a lot to take in. I mean, I didn't think I'd be like that. You know, letting him go. I'd always thought I'm too much of a coward to let him go. But here he was, telling me about what I did. And I really had a feeling toward him. Like, I knew him before. Like we're kindred spirits.

"Well, Jesse, I—" I was saying, when the door opened. Jesse promptly vanished. It was Doc.

"Hey, Suze, you wanna take Max for a walk? I could show you the botanical properties of the plants in Alabama…" Doc was holding the lease of Max's collar, looking hopeful. I sighed. Well, Jesse was gone anyway. At least it can give me some time to think things over.

"OK," I said, and we did that.

I was thinking about Paul when Jesse showed up. Again. In the path of moonlight that filtered in from my small attic window.

"Susannah," he said, "if you don't believe me, I could show you. Bring you back to a place that belonged a hundred and fifty years ago. If you want."

"Wait," I said, "how did Paul and I save you?"

"Well," Jesse said, staring intently at me, "you warned me about the guy that was going to kill me while I was asleep. So I stayed awake, and killed the guy instead. It was him or me. But then there was a fire. Paul just went back to his time. And you said goodbye and went back too."

I thought back. Was there a time when me and Paul were together and I couldn't explain it? Well, yes. A time when I suddenly woke up and found that I was in the backyard. I just thought I'd sleepwalked or something. And I thought I saw a figure walking away from my house. That might have been Paul. It was Paul-sized too. It's not too long ago. Like, maybe a coupla months ago.

I started pacing. "OK. Just let me call Paul first."

I knew that Paul would be going next week. I dialled, and Paul answered.

"Paul," I said, "do you sleepwalk?"  
"Huh? Suze, what's up?"

I ignored him. "Paul, did you sleepwalked two months ago and woke up near my house?"

Paul sounded shifty, "Uh, maybe. I supposed I used to sleepwalk. Maybe it's near your house. I can't remember."

That's a lot of help, Paul. And to think I'd thought he's a great guy. Turns out he's nothing but a blackmailing jerk, if what my dad and Jesse told me was true.

"Paul, are you a mediator?" I accused.

"A shifter, Susie."

What? I was way mad. "Why did you tell me you don't believe in ghosts?"

I could practically hear him smirking, "I should have been more specific. I don't believe in letting them walk all over me, like you clearly seem to."

I was still having trouble processing what I was hearing.

"But… but isn't that what mediators are supposed to do? Help lost souls?" I stammered.

Paul snorted. "Hardly. Well, maybe the priest. And the boy. But not me. And certainly not you, Susannah. But if you'd bothered asking me about shifters, I might have been able to show you precisely what you're capable of. Which is so much more than you can begin to imagine."

"You… Did you steal Mrs. Gutierrez's money? And sent her away?" I was fuming.

"Yeah. I studied Spanish, didn't I? You know the Winter Formal? Well, I spent it for hiring a limo, and pay for supper at the Grill."

I couldn't believe it. Two thousand dollars. Mrs Gutierrez's hard-earned money was spent on hiring a limo and food. I was ready to kill Paul. "Paul, shut your bloody trap and go to hell! And it's over between us, so stop bothering me anymore!"

Jesse was applauding softly as if he were at the theater. "Now that," he said, putting his hands down, "was your finest performance yet."

I ignored him. "Tell me exactly who you are, Mr. cowboy, now."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

Jesse looked immensely angry at being called a cowboy. 'What did you call me? The de Silvas are self-respectful, not cowboys!"

I could see that Jesse was very proud that he's a de Silva, whatever that was.

"Whoa, down, boy. Sorry about the cowboy remark. But you do dress like one. You know, spurs."

Jesse appeared to calm down for a moment. "Sorry, querida. But I just get so mad when people call me a cowboy…"

I held up my hand. "Let's have a ground rule, OK? First: don't talking in foreign language, whatever that was. Sec—"

"It's Spanish for 'beloved'," Jesse interrupted.

I was just preparing to glare at him when I understood what I heard. Beloved! Me! Excellent. Much better than 'babe' or anything, as Paul used to call me. But I pretended not to notice. "—ond, no interruptions, and tell me exactly what occurred. Please begin."

"My name is Hector de Silva. My loved ones called me Jesse. I am the son of a ranch owner. I was going to Carmel to marry my first cousin, Maria de Silva. I stayed overnight at a boarding house, which I believe was _your_ house, and I stayed in _your _room. But Maria loved Felix Diego, a slave-runner instead, so she asked Diego to kill me in my sleep. I was supposed to die in your room. But then Paul and you came to save me. You were deeply against Paul trying to rescue me, because you were afraid that if I don't die that night, you and me will never meet in the future. So Paul tied you up and left you in the barn. But while I was tethering me horse, you made a noise and I came up to investigate. Then I saw you.

You assured me that you were from the future, and told me about Maria's plans. So, while Diego was going to kill the dummy, which he believed was me, I confronted him. Then we fought. I managed to push him down the stairs. But he had pushed you to the floor, and you knocked over the lantern, setting fire to the barn. We jumped down together onto the ground safely. Paul just went back to his years. Then you said goodbye. I asked for your name, and waited for you. Even though I lived for fifty more years, I wasn't happy. Because I didn't find my one true love. You." Jesse stared intently at me as he finished his narrative.

Tears were gathering in my eyes. I just can't help it. It was like, a tragic love story. You know, the hero and heroine can't be together 'cause he's dead and she's alive, and the heroine giving the hero up, and the hero waited for the heroine for a hundred years. So… romantic. And to think it didn't happen because of Slater. And I want to change

that. I want the happiness that was supposed to be mine. Jesse and I were meant to be, but we lost it due to Slater's meddling. God, how I hated him.

"Tell you what," I said. "I'm going to right this wrong. That is, if you'd rather die and wait for one hundred and fifty years for me, than living."

Jesse looked passionately at me. "Oh, querida, I'm willing to wait a thousand years for you."

He reached up and cupped my face in both hands. And that's when he kissed me.

One the lips.

And I don't know why, but I did too. Kiss him back, I mean. Because somehow it felt very right to kiss him instead of Paul. The fireworks thingy, plus all the years of longing in his kiss. Plus, that was the only time we had for kissing, if what happened next was any indication.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Six

"Jesse," I called. I had finished changing into my ghost-busting regalia, including my tool belt and hooded sweatshirt (hey, it was winter, alright). Plus my kate Spade knockoff, with my usual host-busting stuff. You know, my flashlights, pliers, gloves, the roll of dimes I keep in my fist even since my mom found and confiscated my brass kuncles, pepper spray, bowie knife, and, oh yeah, my password. And all my summer money. Which I'd saved, and was about five hundred bucks.

Jesse reappeared before me, pronto. I swung myself over the balcony (heck, it's three-storeys tall, but I hope I can manage that, thanks for the oak tree outside my window), and climbed to the ground. Jesse just materialised down beside me.

"OK, buster. Which way to the museum?" I asked as I climbed into Sleepy's Camaro. Jesse and I had figured out a plan. We were to break into the Cullman County Museum to get his miniature, the only thing Jesse knew of that still existed in this century. Then we were to drive to the airport and take a flight back to Carmel. Then back to my room in my house, and back in time. If this doesn't work, I swear I would kill myself. Or the police. Or my mom. Whichever get me first.

Jesse gave me the directions, and we were off. Now the tricky part. Having seen lots of movies about breaking into museums to steal artefacts, and even breaking into houses, I was quite confident about it. But, I didn't know the museum is so… high-tech.

Serious. OK, there was no security guard. But there must have been lots of security cameras. And how do I get in, anyway? The windows are glass, and they can't be opened. Unless I break them, which will on the alarm.

"Jesse," I said, "could be matrialise inside the house, find your miniature, and then materialise inside the car?" It was the best I could come up with, but it wasn't too bad.

Jesse nodded. "Sure." And then he disappeared.

I sat inside the car, thinking about my plan. It's not bad, really. I mean, so what if there's the alarm? Jesse is a ghost. He could just use his telekinesis and get the miniature. I mean, not that he needed. For all he want, he could touch everything, but it's not like ghosts have fingerprints. Or blood.

I was a good fifty metres away from the museum. It only took Jesse about ten minutes to find the miniature. And it was only when we were on the road that the alarm sounded.

"Score," I said. We were at the airport. I suddenly thought of a question. "Um, can you travel continental? Because, I mean, aren't

you buried here, or anything?"

"We can go anywhere. I just like this house because I lived there when I was alive. Plus, your Grams is quite nice."

"She can see you?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yes. She's a mediator too. You didn't wonder where I went when you're changing, did you? I was talking to the old lady, asking for her opinion."

Huh. There are so many more mediators than I thought.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to arrive at the airport just twenty minutes before flight. I bought a ticket (three hundred dollars! It's murder) and was on board. Jesse followed me too, and sat beside me, which was an empty seat. We chatted about what we'll do the whole way (OK, he chatted, I just wrote them down on the newspaper the flight attendant gave us to read).

Then we got to Carmel. It was already three-thirty in the morning. I speeded all the way to my house. I mean, just speed limit. But when we got there, I got a shock: in the garage, there was a car parked there. A car that does not belong in my family or the Ackermans. A silver BMW convertible, in fact.

Paul Slater's car.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven

And in his car, was Paul Slater, looking intently at me from his rear view mirror.

Oh well. A confrontation.

Paul got out of his car. Jesse got out too, looking extremely distrusting.

"So," Paul said, "going back to the past to help this one? That's what I thought. But as I said, Suze, you belong to me, and I can't let you go with him."

Jesse, still looking at Paul, shouted, "Susannah, now!" And we both ran up to my room.

Paul, stunned, waited for a second before continuing his chase.

Jesse and I got there first, and I quickly held Jesse hand and shifted. I looked down at Jesse's dark, confident gaze in the miniature. Then I closed my eyes and pictured him… pictured Jesse in this very room, only not looking as it did now, with a frilly canopy bed and princess phone (thanks to you, mom).

No, instead I pictured it as it must have looked 150 years ago. No ruffled white curtains over the bay window. No window seat scattered with fluffy pillows. No carpet over the wood floor. No—eew!—bathroom, but maybe one of those, what were they called? Oh yeah, outhouses.

No bikes. No telephones. No laptops. No toasters. No oven. No fridges. No. TVs. No walkmans. No helicopters. No antibiotics.

Just plants. Plants and horses and wooden coaches and mud and wheelbarrows and…

And I opened my eyes.

And I was there. With Jesse

Only, it turned out, with Paul as well.

Paul had not spent the past minute idly sitting eating bonbons while I was shifting. Oh no. He was leaning at the doorway, one hand clutching my tool belt. So he was transported with us too.

I looked around. It was night, but there was a light shining in a nearby barn.

"Quick," I said, "to the barn."

Jesse and I ran stealthily down to the barn. Paul, however, wouldn't let go of my belt.

"Suze," he was saying, and loudly too, "you cannot—"

And then he let go, because Jesse's fist had swung into his face, colliding with his nose. He stifled a muffled cry. Alas, I think the boarders are stirring already.

Anyway, we made it to the barn. Paul was staggering, but I doubt he'll make it. Jesse promised me he'll stop Paul.

"Go, quickly. Tell Susannah that I'd rather die than never meet her." Jesse looked at Paul, and just waved a hand. He was flipped over like a rag doll. It must be cool having telekinesis.

I nodded and climbed up the ladders of the barn. As soon as my head got there, everybody froze. Mainly, Susannah, Diego, and Paul. Hector was too busy preventing Diego from plunging a knife into his heart. I had just arrived in time.

Hector, taking advantage of Diego's shock, broke his grip on him. Hector twisted the arm that held the knife until Diego, with a cry of shock and pain, let go. Hector then hauled off and struck Diego with a blow to the face that sent him reeling—

Right over the ledge, breaking neck bones.

I had, of course, not sat idly by watching them. No, I was trying to save Susannah (let's call me Suze so as to not confuse both of us), who was too shocked staring at me through the smoke and fire (she knocked a lantern over, and it's catching) to save herself.

Paul just stared at us and went, "Susannahs, I'll meet you on the other side." And he shifted.

_Well. _I grabbed a horse blanket and charged through the fire. I couldn't let ourselves get burnt to a crisp, could I?

Hector, who was turning victoriously to save Susannah, jumped a mile when he saw me. Then he looked at Susannah. And back to me. He blinked, as though the smoke had made his eyesight blurry. I pulled Susannah to her feet.

"Who are you?" she asked me.

"Let's get you outta here first," I said. As she's still weak from all the shock and smoke, it was easy getting her under the blanket, then charging out together.

We looked a sight (OK, Susannah looked a sight, what with a face black with ash and all. But since we're the same person, I bet I looked like that too).

"Quick," I told Susannah, "shift back with Hector!"

"Why?" she asked.

"Just do it! I came from the future to make sure you did it!" I snapped. If they don't hurry up, Jesse might die. "I'll tell you later, OK?" I said.

Susannah, finally!, took Jesse's hand and they shifted. Which is just as well, since a second later, the Paul Slater I knew entered.

Where's my Jesse?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

"Where's his living self?" He demanded, looking around for Hector.

"Where's Jesse?" I shouted. I couldn't care less if everybody woke up. It certainly sounds like that, though.

"Outside. You'd better hurry up, though, or you'll be too late," Paul said, smirking.

I ran outside, to see Jesse sprawling on the floor. I had dropped his miniature in a hurry, and Paul, finding it, had exorcised him.

I ran to his side, trying not to cry. "Jesse, don't leave me…"

OK, I cried. I've never loved anyone as much as Jesse. I mean, so what if Susannah and Hector had a happy ending? It's not Jesse and me. No, it's not.

Jesse motioned for me to come closer. I did, and heard him using his last (OK, not breath. Glow) to sing, "Oh Susannah, don't you cry for me; I come from Alabama, for our own happy ending."

And then he was gone. Not even a shimmer was left. I couldn't believe it. Paul had blasted Jesse to the Great Beyond. Just like he did to Mrs. Gutierrez.

"You know what, Paul?" I shouted, standing up. The people's voices were nearly reaching us now. "I'm going. You can stay here for eternity." And then they were on us.

I didn't stick around to find out. I clutched Jesse's miniature and thought of home. And fell on my knees. That's because I hadn't closed my eyes when I thought of home. Oh no. I was keeping an eye on Paul. So I saw him getting shot. In the eye. Which was totally disgusting.

"Jesse!" I heard my voice calling. I glanced around and saw Susannah. Paul was looking accusingly at me. I glared at him and reached to touch Susannah's shoulder.

"Susannah, I—" But then I was sucked into Susannah's body. We were whole again.

Susannah's body stiffened as she realized what was happening. As she became me.

"All right, Suze? I don't know how it happened. You were both here together, and suddenly you became one. I don't know how it happened—"

Jesse. Jesse was lying on his stomach in the grass beside me, totally unmoving, totally not…

Glowing.

He wasn't glowing. That means I succeeded. Well, not yet.

He was alive. Jesse was alive. Only he didn't seem too alive just then. I reached out and felt for a pulse on his wrist. There was one,

but it was faint. He was barely breathing.

"I think we screwed up, Suze. You weren't—you weren't supposed to bring him back."

But I was calm. Because I knew what would happen if I didn't bring him back. I was supposed to.

"Go to the carport," I said in a low, even voice. "And inside the house through the door there. They never remember to lock it. Hanging on a hook by the door are my mom's car keys. Get them and then come back and help me take him to the car."

Paul looked down at me like I was a crazy woman.

"The car?" He sounded dubious. "You're going to… drive him somewhere?"

"Yes, you fool," I snarled. "To the hospital."

"The hospital." Paul shook his head. "But Suze—"

"Just do it!"

Paul did it. I know he thought it was futile, but he did it. He got the keys, then came back and helped me carry Jesse to my mom's car.

Paul was driving while I continued to hold Jesse's head in my arms.

At the hospital, they came running out with a gurney when Paul went in to tell them we had an unconscious man in the car. They hooked Jesse up to an oxygen mask while the emergency room doctor grilled Paul.

I was already off in the car. I knew they couldn't save him. Because he have no soul. I need to find Jesse. The question was, where was Jesse?

In the basilica. I found him sulking on the floor.

"Susannah!" He looked up when I approached. His look of relief immediately changed into anger. "Did you went after Slater? After I told you I could take care of myself?"

"Jesse," I said, "you must come to the hospital with me."

"Are—" Jesse looked at me all over. "Are you hurt?"

"No. But you are."

His dark eyes were emotionless as I continued. "Please come with me. I brought your body here. You must enter it, so you can be alive. You see, I came from the future. I future where you lived until seventy. But it was a future without me. And that future you, Jesse, told me you'd rather die than live without me. So we came back. To save you. But, the future Jesse died. Future Paul exorcised him. So if you want to live here, please come with me. If you want."

Jesse reached up and laid a hand on my arm. "Let's go," he said.

"Jesse," I said, "I can drive back myself, OK? If you want to come with me because you want to live here, that's fine, but if you just want to walk me back to the car, believe me, there's no need to."

Jesse just said, "Susannah. Shut up."

And then I drove him to the hospital. He was silent the whole way. Just those brooding dark eyes kept glancing at me. When we got there, I showed him his real self, which was lying motionless on a hospital bed, hooked up to an oxygen mask.

"Susannah," he whispered. "What… how did you do this?"

"Well, go on. Enter it. At least your soul and body could be reunited at last."

Jesse, with a last look at me, touched his body. He only had time to mutter a "querida" before he was sucked down into his body, like smoke pulled into a fan. And then he was gone (I mean, the spirit Jesse. His body was still there.)

Then Father Dominic came back (I had called him when Paul did not know what to say to the emergency room doctor), and said, "Don't worry, Susannah, it's all taken care of. Jesse will get the tests he needs."

"It doesn't matter," I said.

"Don't give up hope, Susannah," Father Dominic said. "Never give up hope. It's all we have, you know. You did what you did because you loved him, Susannah. You loved him enough to let him go. There's no greater gift you could have given him."

But I wasn't even looking at him. I was staring down at Jesse on the bed. "Father Dominic," I said, interrupting him. "Look."

Colour that hadn't been there a minute before had flooded Jesse's face. His chest was rising and falling rhythmically now beneath the blanket that covered him. A pulsed thrummed visibly in his neck. His eyelids fluttered, and his dark confident gaze reached mine (OK, confident that he is alive, yes, but green, not dark), eyes that weren't just seeing me, but knew me. Knew my soul.

Jesse lifted up a hand, plucked aside the oxygen mask that had been covering his nose and mouth, and said just one word.

A word that caused me to turn smugly to Father Dominic and said, "I told you it doesn't matter."

"Querida."


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note

So Jesse lived. He lived to take Suze out for the Winter Formal and all that. Suze's father, after seeing what he wanted to see (Suze dancing with the man she loves), moved on peacefully. Everything went on as described by Meg Cabot in the last chapter of Twilight. But Suze and Jesse knew better.

That there will be more hiatuses to come.

Written by Lady-of-Nolava

Completed by 2006-11-15

All characters are based on Meg Cabot's characters in _The Mediator_


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